


After Pride and Prejudice: A Bennet Visit

by LinMeiWei



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Humour, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 10:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinMeiWei/pseuds/LinMeiWei
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy are married, and live their perfect happy ending in Pemberley. Except that Elizabeth is pregnant, and so is bedridden. And the Bennets decide to stage a coup, er, I mean, visit. And Mr Darcy is all on his own to manage the whole. I mean, enjoy. Enjoy the whole.





	1. Mr Darcy's cousin has a very improper request

 

From the window of Mr Darcy’s study at Pemberley, a tolerably good view of the bowling green, as it stretched to the west of the sweeping courtyard, invited the eye to graze past its neat extent all the way down to the lake, and further down to the park. These views were certainly much admired, whenever visitors came to Pemberley, but presently they were viewed by its Master, who was leaning his wide shoulders against the side of the window. His arms were folded, and despite the pleasing aspect available to him at this moment, he gazed upon it rather blindly, for he was not alone in his study, but rather had the dubious pleasure of hosting in it a young man, who was reposing in a chair, in the middle of the room.

This person was as fair as Mr Darcy was dark, and was, to that, a few years younger. He was stretching his long legs before him, crossed at the ankles, dressed very fashionably in tight pantaloons and a very neat waistcoat that showed he had travelled from town. His hessians were beautifully polished and his hair fashionably ruffled, in a manner that looked natural when Mr Darcy knew full well it was very studied. All the same, the Honourable Vincent Fitzwilliam, the youngest of the Fitzwilliam brothers, was a very handsome young man, and was grinning in his cousin’s direction at this present moment, and rallying with great energy, “Come, Darcy, you know I would not be travelling all the way from London, at this time of the year, too, if it were not damned low waters with me!”

Mr Darcy turned to look down at his cousin, his dark eyes betraying a hint of impatience.

“Is it really so?” he said, dryly. “No doubt, for both our convenience, you would desire me to skip the moralising and move straight to that part were I fund your rapacious actress.”

Vincent laughed, though his colour was slightly heightened.

“Darcy! Darcy! If it were an ordinary piece of frailty, I promise you, I would not dare importune you about it! But she was a diamond, Darcy, a veritable diamond! Nobody could have resisted, I promise you. It was entirely out of my hands! You should have seen her.”

“The point is that you have come to me to rescue you from the sharks, once more, whither this siren has lured you.”

“Who else should I go to?” demanded Vincent. “You know how my father is, when this sort of thing comes up. Devilish high on the instep, there is no bearing it! And don’t even get me started on my brother, for he would do naught but laugh at me.”

“In that case, I certainly recommend you go to him.”

“I have never known you to be cruel, cousin!” said the Honourable Vincent. “You could always be relied on to pull a fellow out of a lark.”

“I cannot see that to not help you continue on this disastrous path would signify cruelty on my part,” Darcy said. “I feel no obligation to fund your bits of frailty, diamond or no, and it astonishes me that you should think it proper to come to me with this, and at such a time as this!”

“Well, so we come to the crux of the matter.” Vincent sat up. “Look here, I know it is devilish awkward right now, what with Mrs Darcy in such a state and all, but you see, Darcy, it has never been so urgent before!”

“It is so very urgent now?”

“Indeed it is! Before, I could live with a few trifling debts, naturally, men in my positions usually do, you know. Now, however, they are particularly inconvenient to me.”

“Inconvenient, are they?” said Darcy, refusing to be impressed. “Previously they were convenient, I suppose?”

“No, no, Darcy, hear me out. I am convinced that once you know the whole you will be the first to support me in this! You see, it is particularly important that I have no debts, for if it were to come out that I have them and, more to the point, whence they hail, it would ruin all my prospects!”

“How so?”

“Well,” said Vincent, shifting, a little embarrassed. “You see, I mean to marry.”

“Marry!” Mr Darcy was much astonished.

“Is it so shocking?”

The expression on Mr Darcy’s face said much to answer this question.

“Well? What do you say?” demanded the Honourable Vincent.

“I suppose it is high time for you to settle down. I have been shaking my head in sympathy with your mother this age past.”

“So you have, devil take you,” laughed Vincent.

“Who is the victim?”

“Miss Dorinda Ibbetson,” said his cousin. Since the name did not immediately recollect a face to Mr Darcy’s mind, he politely inquired whether the girl was imaginary.

“No, confound you!” laughed Vincent. “She is very real.”

“And she is aware of you?” asked Darcy.

“Yes! I have every encouragement. She is a beauty, Darcy, really, quite out of the ordinary way!”

“You astonish me,” said Darcy. “She is rich, I suppose?”

“That is the wonderful thing! A clean fifteen thousand in dowry, and more on the death of her papa, who suffers from gout and all sorts of other ailments, kind man that he is! It is as though God himself has crafted the situation for me to exploit!”

“Charming,” murmured Darcy.

“Oh you know what I mean!” said Vincent, colouring. “Dash it, you know how it is with me! I cannot afford to be gentlemanly about these things! The cursed thing is that Mr Ibbetson is not one of those knowing fellows. He is devilish prudish, high on morals and all that. I know, I know, not my sort at all, but I assure you he is a topping man!” Darcy frowned, not understanding this cant, and Vincent said, “Extremely rich, Darcy. A cit, of course, but that cannot be helped. The girl is educated and well-mannered and all that, though, so there is no fear in that direction. To that, I am sure he would be delighted to connect his daughter to the peerage, as he would be doing, letting her marry me! Which he will, you know, as soon as I can apply to him.”

“I see,” said Mr Darcy. “You wish me to make your obligations go away, so that your embarrassments don’t make it to Mr Ibbetson’s ears, so that the unfathomable notion that you are not a respectable character never assails his moralising, prudish mind.”

Vincent grinned.

“Clever, eh?”

“Oh yes, a fabulous plan,” said Darcy dryly. “And I am sure my own wife would think it a great thing indeed, if I were to post to Town directly, run down that diamond of yours and hand her a large sum of money. She is already sick to the stomach on most occasions, on account of the baby, but this ought to cheer her spirits.”

“I say, Darcy, you need not tell her of it!” laughed Vincent. “No sense in burdening her with such trifles. I am sure you do not trouble her with your own indiscretions, after all! These things are best swept under the rug, what!”

The glint of humour that had been so far present in Mr Darcy’s eyes disappeared, and he said to his cousin, in a rather sharper tone, “I hesitate to inform you, that one sweeps one’s own dirt under one’s own rug, using one’s own broom, if one is so imprudent as to amass so much of it, as to not be able to clean it up in a respectable, gentlemanly manner. And though I am loath to have to shatter this admirable image you have of me, I must point out to you, so there is no misunderstanding between us, that I have no need to sweep anything under any rug.”

“Oh curse you, Darcy!” shot out his cousin, frustrated by what he perceived to be a sanctimonious lecture. “You can well afford to laugh at me, but don’t pretend that your sheet is blank, for I have cut my eye-teeth years ago and I know better than that! Damn it, everybody knows of that Italian dancer, and- and what of Mrs Halloway, eh? Very pretty, I grant you, but hardly of the first respectability! She mentions your name every second sentence she utters, by the by, so don’t tell me that you have never had any indiscretions, for I call that a hum!”

Mr Darcy, who was leaning against the side of the window still, with his hands in his pockets, said very delicately, and in a manner that put a slight chill down Vincent’s spine, “We will not understand one another, you know, if you keep gossiping like one of my maids.”

“The point is,” said Vincent, standing up and picking up his quizzing glass, to wave it around imperiously and accusingly, “that you have succumbed to the charms of birds of paradise in your day, so you ought to be able to sympathise!”

Darcy stepped to him so swiftly that Vincent almost toppled over, and then grabbed his quizzing glass and pulled his cousin to him. Vincent gulped.

“Understand me, cousin,” said Darcy, his voice still calm and quiet. “What I may or may not have done years before I met my wife is none of your concern. I had not the bad taste and imprudence to task my friends and family with my personal affairs.”

Vincent felt the sting of defeat, and when his quizzing glass fell back to his chest, he had naught to do but to straighten his waistcoat and clear his throat. He was just about to say something bitter, when all conversation was interrupted by the sound of hooves beating down the path that lead out of the park towards the house.

Mr Darcy startled, and turned to look out of the window with a frown. No visitors were expected, as Elizabeth was ill with the pregnancy, and Georgiana was in London for the Season. Vincent was still too much involved in his own case, but was soon brought to pay attention to this new development, when he heard his cousin utter, “Oh God.”

He joined Darcy at the window to see what was the matter. A carriage pulled up before the house, and one of the footmen came running down to open its door. A boy came running from the stables to go to the horse’s heads and point something out to the outrider.

The first person to exit the carriage was an elderly gentleman, of a tall, lanky stature, with puffy, white sideburns and gold-rimmed spectacles, which perched on a long nose. He reached into the carriage to withdraw from it first one older lady, still handsome in her way, though this was hard to tell for she was already engaged in speech, and then two younger females: one a rather attractive brown-haired girl of tall stature and handsome proportions and the other a stouter, shorter and paler girl, with a resigned grimace on her face.

“Visitors, Darcy?” Vincent asked, observing the arriving party a little perplexed.

“Er, of sorts.” Mr Darcy turned to the door of his study and strode out in his usual, determined manner. Vincent was not asked to join him, but join him he did, for he had a sense for when something was brewing, and this was certainly something!

Mr Darcy had to pass through two parlours before he reached the entry hall, in which the older lady from the coach was already crying, “Oh look, girls! Is not this a fine thing! Why, Mr Bennet, tell the man to call for more footmen to carry our things! Such a grand house as this must have a hundred of them to spare! Kitty, stop teasing your sister!”

“I am not teasing her! She sat on my skirt and now it is all crumpled!”

“I did not sit on it,” explained Mary, “and one can hardly expect a travelling dress not to be a little crumpled.”

Mr Darcy reached the entry hall just as Mrs Reynolds came out from another door, which led to the servant’s quarters, and she was regarding the party with marked astonishment. She was about to say something, but then they all silenced as they perceived the Master of the house.

Mr Bennet strode forward, hand outstretched, declaring, “Ah Mr Darcy! We have come for a little, ah, surprise visit. We thought it would delight you to know that my wife is of the decided opinion that you could house kings here!” His eyes were glinting mischievously over his spectacles.

“Oh to be sure!” cried Mrs Bennet, approaching him with awed excitement. “How do you do, sir! Indeed, there is nothing wanting with the house, at all! I always say to my Lizzy how well she has done for herself, very well indeed, better than anybody would have expected! Why, when Mr Collins came to call, you know, he and his odious wife that is, only two weeks ago it was, I said to them that they can have Longbourn for all it is worth, for it is nothing to Pemberley! And indeed I was right! Nothing at all!”

“What say you to that, Mr Darcy?” said Mr Bennet, apparently enchanted with this speech, and inviting his son-in-law to enjoy it for all that it was worth.

Mr Darcy, however, was all too aware of his cousin’s presence behind him, and of Mrs Reynold’s utter bafflement. He felt himself stiffen in mortification, but he knew better now than to show himself to be embarrassed and so he said, “This is indeed a surprise. But you are very welcome. Elizabeth is in her apartments, I shall tell her of your arrival presently. Er- this-” here he turned around to his cousin, and paused for a moment to observe the expression on that man’s face, which was at this moment not much removed from that of Mr Bennet’s, apparently revelling in all this, though for his own reasons. “This is my cousin, Mr Fitzwilliam. Vincent, this is my father-in-law, Mr Bennet, and his wife, Mrs Bennet, and their daughters, Miss Mary Bennet and Miss Katherine. Pray, Mrs Reynolds, show them to their rooms.”

Mrs Reynolds had the highest opinion of her Master, and had grown extremely fond of her new Mistress, too, whom she thought to have exerted a very positive effect upon Mr and Miss Darcy. She was, however, profoundly shocked by this bursting in on the calm and dignity of Pemberley of a group she would never in her life have imagined to be connected to the family she thought it her privilege to serve. She and her husband were, however, retainers of Quality. She would never let such feelings show, therefore, and so she proceeded up the stairs with great composure, instructing the footmen as she went, in her usual efficient style.

Soon the bustle in the entry hall cleared, and the Bennet voices faded as they proceeded deeper into the halls of Pemberley, leaving Mr Darcy with Mrs Bennet’s assurances that Elizabeth would decorate this place to a grander style, for Mr Darcy could certainly afford it.

Waiting for the Bennets to be completely out of hearing, Mr Darcy turned to his cousin, who said, “Well!” He grinned. “This is certainly an interesting development!”

“On the contrary,” said Mr Darcy. “I should call it almost mundane. Do you remain long? The weather looks very good for travel. I think you should be able to make it to Derby before nightfall.”

“Oh I feel like countrifying for the present,” said Vincent, smiling complacently. “I should like to remain. If you do not mind, of course. You do not, I gather, mind?” he asked innocently.

“Mind?” said Mr Darcy, narrowing his eyes at him. “Be my guest.”


	2. Miss Healey's desertion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs Bennet is already hard at work, and Elizabeth's abigail is offended.

Mr Darcy went to his wife’s apartments as soon as he bestowed his cousin into the care of his butler. He certainly did mind Vincent's being witness to all the rainbow of Mrs Bennet's manners, but he was not such a fool as to let his cousin know of his discomfort. Besides, Elizabeth had to bear much from his own family, and he would not reward her for her angelic patience with them by his own discourteousness towards her family. He was determined to prove to them all how well he can behave, if properly motivated.

He knocked on the door to his wife’s apartments. It opened, but revealed the rather uninviting face of Elizabeth’s abigail, Miss Agnes Healey. She was the only servant who had come to Pemberley with the new Mistress, and was thus the only servant who was wholly and completely loyal and devoted to Elizabeth. She doted on her Mistress as though she had reared her from childhood, though in truth she had been interviewed and given the position only a few months ago, shortly after Elizabeth and Darcy’s marriage. Now that Elizabeth was pregnant, Healey was fiercely protective of her, and showed remarkable strength of body and character, despite her small stature.

She had deep-set, dark eyes, which were now upturned to Mr Darcy’s face in a glare of suspicion. They seemed to be saying: ‘You! It was you who has turned a healthy young woman into a veritable invalid with your animalistic passions!’. It made Darcy want to laugh. When he said he was coming in to see his wife, she looked reluctant to let him in. She knew better, however, than to bar his access. She opened the door wider, and allowed Mr Darcy to step in.

He found Elizabeth sitting, rather royally, supported by a wealth of pillows, in the middle of a large canopied bed, at the far end of her bedroom. The windows were open to let in the fresh air, and she was leaning back, a becoming lace cap containing the bulk of her dusky hair, allowing only a few fashionable ringlets to escape from it, to frame her face. Even though she was tired and paler than was her wont, he thought she looked pretty. Not even morning sickness, which had of late become the bane of her existence, could diminish the twinkle in her large, intelligent dark eyes. She opened them when she heard her husband’s approach, and smiled.

“I heard a noise,” she said. “Is it the French? Have they reached Derbyshire?”

Darcy nodded at Healey, waiting for the woman to leave. As usual, she waited for her Mistress to command her to do so, and only took her grudging leave when Elizabeth laughed and said, “Yes, go, Healey, go. And do not glare so!”

When the door to the dressing room closed behind this intrepid woman, Elizabeth’s eyes danced in Darcy’s direction, and she said, “Well?”

He came to the side of her bed, sat down on it and kissed her, before saying, “No, it is not the French. Your family has come.”

“My family!” Her eyes were wide with astonishment. “No, I am sure it could not be. Why, I am sure I had no letter saying that they meant to come. Are you quite certain?”

“Well,” said Mr Darcy, “your mother thinks that Longbourn is nothing to Pemberley, and so she told Mr Collins, who had the impudence to visit them not a few weeks ago. Your sister Katherine had her dress crumpled by your sister Mary. And your father laughed at me as he informed me that all this was a delightful surprise crafted for my pleasure.”

“Oh dear,” said Elizabeth, stifling a laugh. “It is them!”

“They have been shown to the guest wing,” said Mr Darcy. “To remain indefinitely.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, and then said, in a voice shaking with amusement, “Oh, my poor husband, how will you bear it? My dear, would you prefer to find yourself obliged to see to a previous engagement somewhere else? I should not blame you, you know.”

“I am not such a coward,” he said with a smile.

“When Lady Catherine came to visit last month I found much to do in Sheffield,” she reminded him.

“You have,” he said, his smile widening, “But _I_ am not such a coward.”

She slapped his hand playfully, “Oh how dare you! When you know how odious she is to me whenever we meet!”

“You are the one who insisted I forgive her her rudeness to you, and mend our relationship,” he said.

“Do you know,” she said roundly, “one of the most disagreeable things about you is that you always have to have the last word in everything! Nothing I ever said to you, you could take lying down!”

“That is only because when you are vexed, my dear, you get the most adorable light in your eyes, yes, exactly like so.”

“Odious man,” she said with a laugh. “I should stop talking to you altogether.”

“Fitting punishment,” he said. “I always thought wives should listen, rather than talk.”

“Oh!” she said in mock outrage. “And to say so at such a time as this, when all my suffering is due to you!”

He smiled, but then looked down her belly ruefully and said, “Has it been very bad today? I meant to come and see you earlier, but Vincent had me occupied in my study.”

“Is he still here?”

“Oh, I have the distinct feeling that he won’t leave until I pay him off,” he said. “A prospect, which has become rather more likely now that your family has arrived.”

“Is it money he wants? I supposed it must be something of the kind. Tell me, could not you purchase him a commission, or perhaps give him a living?”

“He is not for the army,” said Darcy decidedly. “And as to giving him a living, I can only suppose that you speak out of innocence, for a more indiscrete rattle I have never met!”

“How about law, then? Or perhaps politics?” said Elizabeth.

“God help us,” said Darcy. “Neither of those would do. In his case, I am sorry to say, only a generous uncle or a rich bride would solve his dependence on my pocket.”

“Oh well,” said Elizabeth with a small sigh, “I do not suppose there could be much difficulty in that! He is impudent, as you said, and a shocking rattle, but he is extremely handsome. That ought to do the trick, I should imagine.”

Darcy raised his eyebrows at her. “You think him handsome?”

She laughed. “Only because my eyes function as they ought.”

“You will be interested to know,” he said, “that your Adonis has desired me to pay off some woman on his behalf, so that he can marry an heiress, a daughter of a cit, no less.”

“Goodness,” said Elizabeth, much amused. “Did he come all this way, to your family home, with your pregnant wife present, and had the audacity to ask you such a thing?”

“Yes. I refused, of course, but I suppose I will have to give in, since he means to stay here and observe your family, and use them against me.”

“My poor husband,” said Elizabeth, leaning her head back. She watched him for signs of true discomfort, but as he seemed to bearing it all with a sense of humour, anxiousness left her face, her shoulders lowered a little, and she said, “If this would settle him for good, perhaps it would not be such a bad investment?”

“I object to the principle of the matter.”

“Yes, but then you have been known to be generous to others despite your principles, to help the ones you love,” she said, with a gentle smile. “It is not what I would wish, of course, but it may be for the best, after all.”

Mr Darcy was about to make a reply, but was interrupted by a hasty knock on the door. Mrs Reynolds came in with a harassed look on her face, saying, quickly, “Mrs Bennet is on her way here, she would not be stopped, ma’am. I must warn you, for Healey tried to prevent her, and found herself turned off!”

“Turned off!” cried Elizabeth, in shock. Darcy sprang to his feet, and Mrs Reynolds came closer, saying, “Indeed. Apparently Mrs Bennet decided to order cook to prepare some home remedy, a concoction of oyster shell powder and crushed camomile, and would bring it to you, but Healey refused to let her, declaring that she was not hired to allow for her Mistress to drink poisons and that the accoucheur had said that your illness was a good sign, and so Mrs Bennet became very angry and told Healey that she would not be needed any longer, and that she had never seen such shockingly ill-mannered servants in all her life, and she wondered how such a fine house as Pemberley could tolerate such forward, bumptious-”

“Oh no,” moaned Elizabeth.

“I will take care of Healey,” said Mr Darcy. “Mrs Reynolds, be so kind as to see that Mrs Darcy is not pestered.”

“No, no, really,” said Elizabeth, pained, “it is not necessary, I assure you. I will see my mother. I will explain it all to her. She only means to be helpful.”

Mrs Reynolds, who had already made up her own mind on the matter, kept her peace, only sending a knowing look to her Master, who nodded and left through the door that led to his own apartments, which he did just as Mrs Bennet had entered her daughter’s bedroom, declaring in her high-pitched voice, “Now, my child! They have been mistreating you shockingly! Luckily, I have come!”

He could only be glad that at least Mrs Reynolds was not such a fool as to take offence at anything Mrs Bennet could say to her, and would know just how to remove any nuisance from Elizabeth’s room, should the necessity arise. He rushed down the stairs in search for Healey.

He did not like Agnes Healey, but he knew very well that the woman was indispensable to Elizabeth’s comfort. She had learned all of Elizabeth’s wants and needs, had impeccable taste when it came to clothes and hair, and it would be a trial for Elizabeth to break in a new girl for the same position especially at a time like this. Besides all this, for reasons Mr Darcy could not understand, Elizabeth liked the woman, and thus she must have her.

Darcy’s own valet was indispensable to him, and as he would resent any interference in the management of his personal servant, he never interfered in Elizabeth’s. Dawson was a man of superior understanding, who had been Mr Darcy’s valet ever since Cambridge. He knew Darcy’s moods, had excellent knowledge of all of Darcy’s wardrobe, and was privy to many of Darcy’s confidences, which not even his friends had access to. It was not that Darcy unburdened himself to his servants, for he was not voluble to anybody, and did not think such familiarity proper. But years together had made Dawson sensitive to changes in Mr Darcy’s disposition.

He was the man who tended to him, when he returned from the boxing salon with bruises, from a fencing engagement with pulled muscles, or drunk from a long night on town. He was the one who had tended to him when he was ill, and who knew best what to say when he was tired or otherwise in an ill humour. He had been there when Darcy was a careless youth. He had been there when his father died and a mountain of responsibilities was suddenly heaped upon his young shoulders. It was he who dressed him for such occasions, that demanded that he exert his authority and present a masterful aspect. It was thanks to him that he looked the part, even when he did not feel it. It was he who made sure that Mr Darcy always looked the respectable gentleman, that he was never out of fashion, never wore the wrong colours for the rooms he would be walking into, and it was he who ensured that his Master had the proper treatment from all other servants he encountered, be it at an inn they passed while travelling, or while visiting friends or family.

Though it was never spoken between them, Dawson was the first to know when Mr Darcy had fallen in love with a charming country miss, during a stay with his friends in their estate in Hertfordshire. After all, how could a man responsible for the dressing of him not notice that his Master, usually not the least bit dandyish, began to suddenly care what colour coat he would be wearing to dinner of an evening, when a certain Miss Elizabeth Bennet was to dine with the party? How could he not notice that intent look of concentration in his Master’s eye, when he tied his cravat, not with the usual neat propriety, but with a fashionable knot he had seen on his more modish cousin? How could he not notice the particular care he took with his sartorial choices one evening in Kent, when the parsonage party were to dine at Rosings? And then the pale anger in Mr Darcy’s face, when he returned from it?

The servant didn’t know what precisely happened, but much could be inferred from the mud on his boots, the angry way in which his coat had been tossed to the ground, and the way in which he expressed his desire to have his trunks and boxes packed and readied for an early departure the next morning—and this after twice having delayed their departure in a different sort of mood altogether. The extent of his feelings was not known to Dawson, naturally, but he could tell much from how long it took his Master to recover any semblance of peace after the suspected blow. He could tell from the way his Master’s manners had changed after Kent. And certainly all doubt was cast off when, last summer, the lady happened to visit Pemberley on the precise day of Mr Darcy and his valet’s return from town.

Not a word was said about the matter between Dawson and his Master, but there had been no need. Dawson had readied his Master’s most becoming pieces when he left for Lambton to meet the lady. He had not said a word, or betrayed any emotion in his expression, when his Master informed him that he was returning to Hertfordshire at the end of the summer. All he had done was put very special care into the polish of his shoes when he was to ride out to Longbourn that day. And he was one of the first to know of the happy issue, when his Master returned from this visit in a more elated mood than he had ever seen him. He had been the one to ready his Master for his wedding day, and he had even been in the room, when it first became known that Mrs Darcy was very likely with child.

No, Darcy would not have Dawson taken away from him for the world. So it was with great urgency that he descended into the main hall, found his butler and demanded to know where Healey was. Mr Reynolds directed him to the kitchen, where the woman was apparently seen last, having been overheard demanding for a cart to be readied to drive her to the nearest posting house.

Darcy tore open the servant’s door and rushed down its narrow steps into the depths of the basement, where the enormous kitchen stood. He was first perceived by his cook, and at once this resolute Frenchman assumed that it was for his benefit that his Master had come. Instantly he indulged himself in a barrage of complaints in his native tongue, dismaying two kitchen maids and Michael the footman, who happened to be in the vicinity. The complaints were not entirely unfounded. Apparently, after having constructed a very careful menu, which delicately skirted all dishes and scents which made Mrs Darcy ill, he was told by Mrs Bennet to change said menu. He wanted to know how one was to bear such barbarism, and declared that he certainly would not work under such conditions, and he had half a mind, he said, to go to Lord Elsebury, even if the man was a lecherous philistine, who did not know his mutton from his beef, and liked to mix his sauces, (which Édouard had on good authority from his friend, who recently resigned his position with this particular gentleman), and from whom all the maids ran and for whom therefore no woman would work.

Neither the kitchen maids, nor Michael the footman understood the chef, but they were all of them sure that Mr Darcy’s reply was none too amiable. Mr Darcy was out of all patience at this moment, but he did not raise his voice. The maids and Michael could only judge the severity of his response by Monsieur Édouard’s expression. Mr Darcy said, in French and without emotion, that the chef was welcome to leave at this very moment. In fact, a cart was being drawn up right now, which would perhaps fit his wide French bottom on it, and could take him to the nearest posting house. Furthermore, would Édouard be so good as to inform Mr Darcy of the name and address of his rather wiser friend, who had just left Lord Elsebury’s employ? That way a more convenient arrangement for everybody could be found.

Michael and the maids gaped when they saw the cook, usually a tyrant of the servants hall, grow smaller and walk docilely to his position by the table, where he was carefully chopping ginger, and resume his work without another word.

Mr Darcy’s look swept the room and halted on the maids and the footman.

“Where is Miss Healey?” he demanded. The maids were, at this point, much too scared to utter a word, and inclined to run away.

Michael was much of the same opinion, but knew better than to tremble in fear, and so said, “Just outside, sir. Shall I call her in, sir?”

Darcy shook his head and took the steps that led from the kitchen out into the small kitchen garden. There, seated primly on a small bench, sat Miss Agnes Healey, waiting for her cart, looking very stiff and offended, her chin held high and evidently waiting to be begged to return. She had every intention of returning, of course, but expected to show everybody just how invaluable she was by the amount of begging that would be performed for her benefit.

She had not expected to have the Master himself come for her, and gratification mingled with discomfort, when it was that gentleman, and not a frightened servant, that she was faced with.

She stood when she saw him, and said, “M-Mr Darcy, sir,” and dropped a curtsy. “I am waiting for my transport to the- the posting house, sir.”

Mr Darcy looked down at her for as long as it took for Agnes Healey to lower her chin and for her bristles to fall, which was not long.

In a disquietingly calm way he said, “Are you indeed? Has my wife displeased you that you should think it fit to quit your duties in er-” here he looked around, “in such a manner?”

He was a tall man, and capable of putting on a very cold front, to which Agnes Healey was treated at the present moment. Gone was the man who came to his wife’s chambers with a warm smile, and affectionate address. Before her stood a man, with whom she was reluctant to trifle. He spoke in accents so cold and formal, that even the fearless Healey had to gulp to think of an excuse for a misstep she now saw was extremely serious. She knew better than to play off her games on Mr Darcy, and yet she was still too proud to admit defeat. Conflicting all these feelings was the notion that any distress at all should have been caused to her Mistress.

In somewhat cowered accents she began, “Indeed, Mistress has done nothing, but Mrs Bennet-”

“Mrs Bennet is a guest in this house,” said Mr Darcy. “I expect my servants to know better than to quit their posts for no better reason than because their fragile feelings have been offended by anything a guest may have said to them. At such a time as this, I should have thought it your duty to be supportive of your Mistress. She has been informed of your defection before I could prevent it. Needless to say, we were both surprised and disappointed to learn that you should feel it necessary to call for a cart to take yourself away for such a trifle.”

Healey’s countenance fell entirely at these words, and her eyes widened in dismay.

“Of course,” said Mr Darcy, “if you mean to continue with your plan, I shan’t stop you. I will call the carriage to take you to the posting house, there is no need for you to go in a mere cart.”

“N-no, sir! I beg your pardon, it was entirely peevish of me! No need to- I will- with your permission, sir-” she said in trembling accents.

“I suggest we forget what happened,” he said.

She muttered a thank you and then hurried back indoors. Mr Darcy, waiting to see the door close behind her, took the way around the kitchen garden, through the little gate that led to the walled garden, with the intention of getting to the stables to let them know to unharness the cart.

In the garden he saw Miss Kitty Bennet, walking out on the arm of his cousin, the Honourable Vincent. No doubt, Darcy thought, he was pumping her for information or perhaps he was ingratiating himself. Neither tactic surprised or frightened him, however, as it was precisely what he would have expected of his cousin. Nevertheless, he allowed this to divert his course to the stables, bethinking himself of the need for a footman to follow the pair, in case Vincent decided to do something imprudent and ill-judged.

No sooner did he enter the great hall, did he tell Reynolds to send Michael or John out to accompany Mr Fitzwilliam and Miss Katherine in the garden, only to be arrested by the sight of discomposed maid, fleeing the music room. He told her to stop and went to her to see what was the matter. The girl did stop, but when he reached her, he heard a strange sound coming from the room she had just left.

“What is the matter? What is this sound?”

“It’s Miss Bennet, sir,” said the girl very quietly.

“Where is it coming from?” he asked.

“The music room, sir.”

The maid walked away, and he followed the strange sound, until he realised what it was. It was the sound of sobbing. He stopped. It would be best if Miss Kitty, or Mrs Bennet or, preferably, Elizabeth could see to whatever was causing this distress in Miss Mary Bennet, but the notion that he should go all the way to his wife’s chambers to distress her with more bad news was distasteful to him.

No, he thought, he would investigate the matter himself.


	3. Miss Mary Bennet's feelings are hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mary is upset.

Before he was able to step in the direction of the music room, he saw Mrs Reynolds, hurrying down the stairs. She saw him and came to him, saying in a suspiciously hushed voice, “Mr Darcy, sir!”

“Yes?”

“I thought it best to warn you that Mrs Bennet was looking for you,” she said.

“You have always been kind to me,” he said with a smile. “What is the matter now?”

“Oh it is only that she has decided that the accoucheur, who comes to tend to Mistress, is doing no good and decided to have him called to tell him exactly how he should go forward with Mistress. Mistress begged her not to but was saved from any argument by being ill again. I made Mrs Bennet leave then, of course, and Healey is with her now, so you need not worry about her, but Mrs Bennet is now determined to find you and confront you with the matter.”

“I see,” said Mr Darcy. “Cannot you find something for her to do, to distract her from either of us?”

Mrs Reynolds thought this over in her quick mind, and then said, “I suppose I could send her onto the cook, for I am sure he deserves it, but that may finish with an unpleasant meal.”

“No, I have already told him what I thought of him, and if I know anything of the matter we will be served the best meal we have ever tasted from him. What of the gardener? Yes, in fact, send her out and desire her to give us her opinion on the garden. Wallace should be able to bear with her, shouldn’t he?”

Mrs Reynolds, who had known Darcy since he was a little boy, looked up at him with mingled reprove and amusement.

“I daresay, sir, that he will be more than capable of distracting her. He has the patience of a saint. And, if I may be permitted to remark, a propos of nothing, of course, he is half deaf.”

“That’s the ticket, then,” said Mr Darcy with a smile. “Together we will survive this visit with minimal damage, I am sure. Unto the breach, Mrs Reynolds.”

The older woman, with a sudden laugh in her eyes, shook her head at him, and retreated dutifully. Mr Darcy, rather unwillingly but with great determination, turned to the music room, where the sound of sobbing continued unabated. He had to pass through a small ante-room, which was, for the moment, decorated still in the old style, and which neither he nor his wife had any time yet to think of what to do with. It was thus still filled with gilded and over-decorated furniture, old family heirlooms, and gave the whole space an old-fashioned air.

It led to the music room, which was Georgiana’s territory. There he saw Mary seated in the corner of the chaise lounge, which stood before the pianoforte. He had purchased it for Georgiana only last year, for £100 from Broadwood’s, hoping to cheer her after the misadventure in Ramsgate. Mr Darcy felt sure that had Georgiana been here, she would have been able to distract Mary away from whatever had caused her to fall into the sullens. She was not there, however, and so he was faced with a problem he did not feel himself competent to solve.

He knew little about Mary Bennet. He knew she played and sang with unnecessary and tedious affectation. He knew she was the plainest of the Bennet girls. He tried to think of anything else, but nothing sprung to mind. He felt himself singularly unsuited to the task of coaxing her out of her tears. He was reminded, however, of how tireless Elizabeth had been in her efforts to draw out Georgiana, how patient, kind and gracious she had been with her. She alone was the reason why Georgiana could be in town now, enjoying her first season, where previously she shied away from all company. So he took a deep breath and cleared his throat, notifying Miss Mary Bennet thereby of his presence.

She gasped and looked up from her knees, which she had been hugging, while her shoulders shook with the strength of her sobs, and regarded him with shocked wide eyes.

“I, er, I could not help but hear that you were in some distress,” he said. “Is anything the matter?”

The question sounded a trifle absurd, considering that the girl’s face was covered in tears, her eyes were red and puffy, and her expression that of utter misery.

“I- I- I am sorry,” she said in a whisper, “I did not mean to-”

Mr Darcy handed her a clean handkerchief and begged her to make use of it. She covered her face with it at once and dried her face. Then she handed the crumpled piece of embroidered fabric back to him. He begged her to keep it.

Her chin trembled, and, seeing that she was about to burst into tears again, he quickly said, “Will you tell me what has cast you down?”

Mary, for reasons unknown to him, looked at him with such astonishment, that one would have supposed he had just revealed himself to be Napoleon Bonaparte. He took a seat in a nearby chair, put one leg over the other, and waited.

“I am sure I ought not to trouble you with nonsense, sir,” she said.

“Nonsense?” he asked. “Can it be nonsense, when it makes you cry? If you tell me what it is, I may be able to do something about it.”

“Oh you cannot do anything about it”, she said. “Nobody can!”

Her chin began to tremble again and so he said, hastily, “Well, I am sure something may always be done. Besides, now that I am your brother, I would be honoured if you would confide in me.”

She appeared to digest this thought with fascination. She could scarcely look at him without seeing an intimidating gentleman, who had, for unfathomable reasons, which excited her mother greatly, decided to marry her sister. The true source of her misery was too embarrassing, however, to open her mouth, even considering the new light in which she saw Mr Darcy. Instead, she said, “It is truly nothing, sir. You must have enough experience of irrational female hysterics, to know it not worthy of your trouble. It is nothing beyond that, I assure you.”

“I have no experience of hysterics, female or otherwise,” he said. “Nor do I think would such a thing befall so rational a creature as yourself.”

This had the power of making her mouth fall open. Used as she was to being overlooked by everyone, especially men, the notion that Mr Darcy not only noticed her existence, but even went so far as to have an opinion of her was too shocking to be swallowed lightly.

“You think I am a rational creature?” she said, amazed.

“Aren’t you?” he asked, politely.

“I like to think so,” she said. “It may be pure vanity on my part, however. We all of us think our thoughts and feelings based on rationality, because they make sense to us. They need not necessarily appear so to the rest of the world.”

“To be sure,” he said, a little amused by this unnecessarily earnest tone she adopted, when she imparted her philosophies. “It is little to the point, however. If whatever it is distresses you, then it must have some reason behind it, and it does not matter whether I or anybody else thinks it sufficient to merit tears. Besides, I don’t want to judge your reasons, I merely want to do something about them. Are you quite sure there is nothing I can do for your comfort?”

“No, sir,” she said, sniffling. “There is nothing anybody can do.”

She looked wistfully out of the window, which gave a perfect view of the garden. There, her arm nestled confidingly in the crook of Vincent’s arm, was Kitty Bennet.

Understanding dawned. Darcy was not surprised that Mary would be too embarrassed to share with him what must be, evidently, sisterly jealousy.

He said, “I see that your sister has the misfortune of being escorted about the garden by my cousin. He is a sad rattle, you know.”

She smiled a little, but it was a sad smile.

“Has he been making himself into a nuisance to you and your sister?”

“Oh no,” said Mary. “Not to me, at least. He spoke to Kitty a lot.”

“No doubt,” said Mr Darcy. “He shies away from sensible females, you know. I cannot wonder at it, for they appear to see right through him. He is very afraid of Elizabeth.”

Mary looked up, surprised. “No, is he?” she said, unable to keep the note of pleasure from her voice.

“Emphatically, yes,” said Mr Darcy. “She has the ability to laugh at him so charmingly that he doesn’t know what to say in return and ends up feeling very silly indeed. Men like he, you know, like to be able to bamboozle with parlour wit and that sort of thing, which is pleasant, but superficial. It works well enough on females who are easily impressed, I suppose, and your sister is very kind for putting up with him, but I dare say he would have thought it imprudent to try it on you.”

This way of looking at the matter had not previously occurred to her, and it appealed strongly to her feeling that she was the superior in sense and talent to all her sisters. She began to take heart and was even able to remember that she was here to see Elizabeth and so she said, “Is- is Elizabeth very ill? Mrs Reynolds said she must not be disturbed.”

“She was feeling ill, as a matter of fact, but I am sure she would be very happy to see you for a little while. Will you come with me to see how she is doing?”

Mary happily relinquished her position by the window, thus ceasing the needless torture of her soul with the irreparable truth that her sister had engaged the attentions of a handsome young man, while she was ignored by one. In her heart there was a steady rhythm of assurance, that even if this was so, she was recognized as rational and sensible by a person who, despite all the ill she knew of him, was certainly known to be intelligent and fastidious in his judgements.

She had to wait outside Elizabeth’s chambers, which seemed to her magnificent beyond belief, until Mr Darcy emerged from it with the intelligence that she was ready to receive visitors. Elizabeth was so pleased to see Mary, that it made her sister feel very validated, and when she was asked to pray tell what mischief Kitty had been up to, she was able to sit down by her sister’s side and indulge in a hearty spot of complaining.

She unburdened herself as much as she thought proper, for she had never been particularly close to Elizabeth, but there was a quote from Fordyce’s sermons for every occasion, and she could pepper her speech liberally with those, moralising contentedly, until Elizabeth’s pallor and tired look imposed itself on her attention, and she asked about her sister’s health.

Mr Darcy was, all this time, by the window, watching the two of them, though not listening to their conversation. Healey came in and out of the room, carrying ewers of fresh water, bowls with lavender water, and a special effervescent concoction, which the accoucheur suggested would be of use on particularly bad days.

Mr Darcy, who liked nothing better than to be able to gaze at his wife, stood in this manner, allowing everything else to happen meanwhile.

Whenever he had the opportunity to do so in peace, he was inevitably forced to reflect how fortunate he was to have met her. It was so very accidental. After all, Bingley could have been convinced by any man to take any property. It was sheer luck that his solicitor had come across Netherfield. And then, Darcy was not meant to go to Netherfield with him, for all that had happened the previous summer had given him a distaste for society, and Georgiana’s state had worried him. He had meant to spend the autumn in Pemberley with his sister. The only reason he went with Bingley in the end was that man’s badgering—he had been so pleased to have found a house he wanted to buy, that in the end Darcy had to go and see it for himself.

Had he been told that he would meet his future wife whilst residing unwillingly in Netherfield in Hertfordshire, he would probably have laughed. Neither was his first acquaintance with the neighbourhood so felicitous as to encourage any such hopes. Nothing could have been further from his mind at that time than courtship. Nor, he remembered with shame, had he been impressed with Elizabeth very much when he first saw her. The local men made much of her and her sisters, but Darcy was above being taken in by the charms of country girls with no fortunes and little manners. Yes, he remembered his thoughts well enough, and they still mortified him, even though Elizabeth was content to laugh at them.

He was glad to see that marriage to him did not rob her of this laugh. He had had many fears to do with the match, but he always knew that whatever obstacles Elizabeth would ever face, she would not cower from them. She was very brave and resilient, and was able to laugh in the face of those who would snub her, or make something of her origins. To be sure, they were only married four months, and her encounter with society had as yet not been extensive, but he had taken her to London after the wedding, and her introductions to his many friends, and numerous family, went better than he could have expected.

Anybody who would give her fair consideration must think her charming and intelligent. Anybody who would not was no friend of Darcy’s. Besides, he had that advantage on his side: he loved her. His good friend Lady Broseley had once remarked that there was something very taking about a husband who doted on his wife, and this was certainly the case here. The match had been called imprudent, and Mr Darcy had been laughed at for having done worse than could have been hoped for, but nobody could deny that he was besotted with his wife, that she was a charming original, and that for all the disadvantages of such an alliance, they never appeared anything other than happy together.

His family, who all of them told him he was being very stupid in his choice, rallied behind him publicly, and they were all quite ready to allow her to be a captivating girl, who was quite impossible to dislike. If they spoke behind his back of how he ought to have simply given her a slip on the shoulder, as the saying went, they never dared say so to him. Mr Darcy would certainly have a few things to say to anybody who dared express such a thought to him. But the truth he could not tell them, for it was not a thing that mere words could convey.

And the truth was that with the same strength, with which he resisted the lures that had been cast to him over the years he had spent in town, he had tumbled headlong into love. It had been impossible for him not to marry Elizabeth. Even at a time when he felt the imprudence of his choice the most, he was unable to stop himself from throwing his heart to her feet. She had stirred something very deep within him, which made him feel as though every fibre in his body was alive. How this happened he still was not entirely sure.

At the beginning she had awoken the hunter in him, by not flattering him and chasing after him, as so many a single young woman had. She laughed at him, teased him, dismissed him, refused to dance with him and was ready to quit any conversation with him at the drop of a hat. She would look at him with her laughing, twinkling eyes one moment, and then be wholly absorbed by conversation with somebody else another. She challenged everything he said, refused to acknowledge the wisdom of any word of his, and never once batted her eyes at him, or went to him when he stood alone, tripping to cling to his arm, swooning in his direction, or employing any other means of captivation, which he was so tired of observing, and which he found so insulting to his intelligence and the intelligence of those who employed them. Her negligence in attending him irritated and interested him. As far as his dignity would allow him to flirt with her, he did, and he was absurdly amused by how little effect it seemed to have. All the while, deeper feelings had been developing, of which even he had no notion of, and probably never would have had, had she not refused him so soundly in Kent.

He had gone to her, expecting to be accepted at once and with gratitude. He had condescended to propose to her despite his own deepest objections, but he had wanted her, and he had been ready to give up the hunt and have her already. That she would not accept him had never occurred to him at all, and it was so profound a shock to his understanding of her, of himself, of everything, that nothing in his life ever remained the same afterwards.

What a man he had been, he wondered with some amusement, what a man he still would have been, had it not been for her!

 So he stood by the window, looking at his wife with a warm regard, which was, unbeknownst to him, very much responsible for the slight blush on her cheeks.

He certainly needed the reprieve after the shock of having the Bennets arrive so suddenly. Likely such repose would have restored him completely, were his ears not suddenly accosted by the screeching sound of Mrs Bennet’s voice, crying at the top of her lungs, “Mr Darcy! Mr Darcy!”

Elizabeth’s eyes flew up to his face and he could see, quite clearly, the mortified expression he had learned to recognize so well. She was, for a moment, without words. He straightened and said, “I will see to this. No need to fret.” He turned to Mary and said, “I trust you will allow your sister to rest before she becomes very tired.”

Mary said, very earnestly, that of course she would. He tried to smile encouragingly at Elizabeth, before exiting the room, and would have succeeded too had not Mrs Bennet’s shrill voice sounded again and made him, involuntarily, wince.

Elizabeth cast a worried look at him, and said, “I should get up. Perhaps papa can-”

“No, no, indeed,” he said. “It will be my pleasure to see whatever is, er, is the matter. I shall see you shortly, do not trouble yourself.”

With that he exited the room and shut the door behind him firmly. He met Mrs Bennet on the landing, and no sooner had she caught sight of him, did she throw herself onto his chest in a high dramatic fashion, crying, “Oh Mr Darcy! There you are! What a to do! Oh, what is to become of us!”

“What is the matter? What happened?” he asked.

“It is Kitty, Mr Darcy! She is gone! Disappeared!”

“Gone?”

“Aye, gone!” she cried. “I was just instructing your gardener, a stupid man, but very kind, and I must say, it is very charitable of you to employ an idiot, especially in the garden, where the harm cannot be so vast, though I do say- oh but that is beside the point! It is Kitty, Mr Darcy! Ten minutes ago, some hurly-burly female arrived! I saw her! She jumped out of a farmer’s whiskey, if you will believe it… this is the sort of thing I do not hold with at all! Well, so she jumps off and what does she do but run straight into the garden and into your cousin’s arms? Indeed, she did! The farmer went away, and then there was a quarrel, though I heard none of the particulars, for I was too far away, but then I saw Kitty run away in one direction, and your cousin and that hoyden of a female in another!”

Mr Darcy could not make heads or tails from this rambling speech, and requested that she take a breath and tell him once more where everybody was.

“Oh but I am telling you!” she cried with unnecessary force. “All of them! Gone!”

“Impossible,” said Mr Darcy. “I have sent a footman to attend them!”

There was a moment, a second perhaps, during which Mrs Bennet appeared to redden a little, and then she said, “Well, to be sure, that is excessively kind of you, sir, but you know, we are not accustomed to such formality in the country.” She tittered a little. “Why, how should I have known that it would become necessary? Besides, how is one to speak freely to another with a footman hovering about? No indeed, I don’t hold with such, ah, ceremony as that!”

She continued on in this manner until Mr Darcy realised that in all likelihood, desirous as always to find a match for her daughters, she had sent the footman away, convinced that in that way she could push Kitty into Vincent’s arms. He knew he should be vexed, and indeed, a large part of him was, but another part could not but perceive the humour of the situation and he could only regret that Elizabeth was not here to share it with him.

Outwardly, however, he preserved a stoic countenance, and said, “I understand. You thought a footman’s attendance so formal that you made sure he does not stifle Miss Katherine’s conversation with my cousin. And then a scene happened with an, er, a hurly-burly female, who arrived with some farmer. Do I have this correctly?”

“Yes! To be sure! I have never seen anything so improper in my life! You must find your cousin at once and send that strumpet packing!”

“Yes, I see that I shall have to,” said Mr Darcy nodding gravely.

“Of course, no blame attaches to your cousin,” said Mrs Bennet hastily. “I am sure that he had no choice but to see to that woman, no doubt to remove her from your premises, but one must always beware calculating females! You ought to go at once and find him!”

“I will,” he said, and then added, contemplatively, “Though I am sure I know not why a calculating sort of female would ever set her sights at my penniless cousin.”

This last remark was made very lightly, but it caused Mrs Bennet to stiffen, and the gleam of excitement in her eyes to die. She said, “Oh well, I suppose- well, I should see that this Mrs Reynolds of yours knows what to do with the dinner. It is shocking that Lizzy should spend her whole day in bed in this manner. You must not spoil her so, Mr Darcy, for I assure you I did not raise her so! And where is Kitty?”

With this she walked away, never to mention Vincent Fitzwilliam again and finding very little to interest her in the success or failure of his elopement. Mr Darcy shook his head lightly and then made his way, quickly, out of the house.


	4. Miss Katherine Bennet gets trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitty runs away.

Michael was a conscientious and ambitious man, and when he was first admitted into Pemberley, the grand house he had grown up hearing of, he did so with the view to one day rise to the position of butler. At the present, however, he was only the under-footman, and if there was one thing that terrified him, it was to disappoint his employer.

It took little time for Michael to learn what manner of man Mr Darcy was. To impress him became Michael’s sole ambition. When he was therefore sent to the garden to follow Miss Katherine Bennet and Mr Vincent Fitzwlliam on their stroll, and was then sent away by the disagreeable Mrs Bennet, he did not allow himself to lose complete sight of his task.

When Mr Darcy emerged from the house, Michael went to him at once and said, “Sir! I have spoken to the stables. They left not five minutes ago by way of cart. Someone had ordered it to be harnessed, so it was ready for them to board at once. Can’t have gone far, sir. Was going to chase after them. Miss Katherine has gone to the park. She has gone on foot. She too can’t have gone far, sir. Was going to ask you, sir, which you want me to go after first.”

Mr Darcy was at first surprised by this speech, but at once caught on and said, “Miss Katherine is in the park, you say? You are sure about this?”

“Yes, sir. She ran in that direction.”

“Ran?” said Mr Darcy, incredulously. Before he was able to say more, a high-pitched, female shriek coming from far away interrupted them. At once, both men sprung to action.

“Quick, my spring gun,” said Mr Darcy and then ran off in the direction of the park, while Michael made off to the gun room.

Mr Darcy could not imagine what all this shrieking was about, but since beyond the park there were the Pemberley woods, he thought of a number of animals, of fallen logs, or poachers as potential threats to Miss Katherine, and desired to be with her as soon as his long legs could carry him.

He cast a quick glance in the direction of the lake, for the notion occurred that perhaps she had fallen in and was drowning, but the water was flat and calm, reflecting the blue, almost cloudless sky without a hint of disturbance. He breathed a sigh of relief and ran on, in the direction of the shrieking girl, for her cries for help repeated themselves every few seconds. Following these sounds then, he broke away from the lane and passed through the poplars that lined it to go across a paddock, where the grass grew very high. There was a low bank there, and beyond it stretched a valley, which led, in a narrow pass, towards the deer park.

He looked down the valley, knew the shrieks were coming from somewhere there, but could see nothing. He called Kitty’s name.

“Here! I’m here! Help!” she cried.

Seeing the valley entirely empty was a surprise, and he walked on, following the sounds of Kitty’s cries, only to be arrested by a flash of white muslin, high on one of the trees. In considerable astonishment he looked up, to find Miss Kitty Bennet clutching a thick branch on one of the trees with arms and legs, and a look of fear etched in her small face.

Mr Darcy said, “Good God, what in heaven’s name are you doing?”

“I- I saw a deer, I wanted to see them closer and I accid-dentally stood b-between it and a-a small one and it was- was going to ch-charge at me- so I ran a-and came up here, only I cannot come d-down!”

Mr Darcy listened to this trembling confession with surprise and resignation. He wondered if this day would ever end. His footman came running to him just then and interrupted them.

Michael was a tall, athletic young man, and he made short work of the distance from the hill where the valley started to the side of his Master. The look on his face proclaimed to Mr Darcy that if ever the French should come to take a fancy to Pemberley, they would have him to deal with first.

“Ah Michael,” said Mr Darcy, “thank you. The gun is unnecessary. Miss Katherine has, er, taken refuge up this three. Go and run for a ladder.”

Michael was about to set off, but he took not a step before the branch creaked and Miss Katherine shrieked, and both men stepped towards her, arms stretched out. The idea of the ladder was abandoned at once. Mr Darcy said, “Let go of the branch, Miss Katherine, I will catch you.”

“Oh n-no! I will fall!” she whimpered.

“If you swing down your legs,” said Mr Darcy, “I will reach for you and you will be down in a trice.”

But Kitty, who had only overcome her fear of heights, because it was superseded by a fear of being trampled by wild beasts, was in the grip of a panic, which did not allow her to think rationally. The distance between herself and Mr Darcy was too large, and to her frightened eyes at that moment seemed like miles and miles. She clutched her branch harder.

Michael cleared his throat, but his Master ignored him, and tried once more to convince Kitty to let go of the branch. Michael cleared his throat once again and Darcy turned to him asking him what was the matter.

“Sir,” he said in a low, respectful tone, his back turned to the tree, “if I may. I could get her down very easily.”

“You could, could you? How?”

“Forgive me if I am being forward, but I have nine brothers and sisters and all of them scamps, sir. I’ve had to do this sort of thing many a times. I could climb up and if Miss will give me her hand and hold on to me, I can lower her to you.”

Darcy considered the matter. He made Michael repeat his plan, considering if it really was doable. Then he considered which was more proper—that Michael should climb up the tree and hand Kitty down so she fell into Darcy’s arms, or that Darcy himself climbed up and Kitty fell into Michael’s arms. He thought it best if it were he, Darcy, who caught her, and so he agreed to Michael’s suggestion.

Michael took off his livery coat and placed it, folded neatly, on the ground, and then dropped his gloves, one then the other. He then rolled up his sleeves and in a few swift movements, scrambled up the tree. Before long he was in the unfortunate, for Kitty, position, facing her from behind in a rather inconvenient pose.

She trembled terribly, so the leaves of the branch rustled, and glanced behind her with a face red as a beetroot.

“Alright, miss,” said the footman with a low, soothing voice. “Mr Darcy is right below and I am right behind you. Nothing will happen to you. If you let go of the branch and reach for me, I will help you down.”

She looked at him with sheer panic, and said, “O-oh but I c-cannot!”

“Of course you can,” he said encouragingly. “Why, you made it all the way up here, haven’t you, miss? Takes a brave woman to do that, miss. You need do nothing but reach for my hand. I will reach forward now, miss. Very slowly, try not to lose your balance.”

He did reach his long arm forward, his hand going as far as her elbow. She hesitated, but his hand was so close that it was no great leap to let go and swiftly grab it. She held on to him with a clutch that would have pained a smaller and weaker man than Michael.

He said, “Very good miss. I will pull you away from the branch now. Hold my hand as hard as you can, miss.”

He did as he said he would, and pealed her torso away from the branch so she now was sitting upright and though her breathing had a distinct hitch to it, her head was held high, preserving whatever dignity was left to preserve. For she was sitting, rather immodestly, astride on the branch and much of her legs was exposed, as were, she was painfully aware, her torn stockings. Her dress was torn around her sleeves too, and there was an even worse tear going from her left shoulder all the way down to her bellybutton. It got caught on the tree as she was climbing up, quite heedless of the consequences.

She could look neither at Mr Darcy nor at the footman, and quite possibly wished she had not called for help, but allowed herself to tumble to her death. But her hand was still clutching Michael’s, and he said, “Now you must turn to your left, miss, and give me your other hand. I won’t let go of you, no need to fret. That’s right miss, I have it, very good.”

Indeed she was now twisted to her left and the footman, who had climbed up meanwhile to straddle the branch some small distance behind her, was now holding both her hands.

“Now move your leg over to the left, miss. I am holding you, you won’t fall, miss.”

She wanted to obey this instruction, but a glance down reminded her of how high she was, and the noise the branch was making under their weight frightened her, and she clutched his hands even more fiercely and let out a wince.

“No, don’t look down, miss. Look at me. It ain’t so high, anyway, miss.”

She did look at him, reluctantly. He smiled encouragingly and said, “That’s right, miss. Very brave, very brave indeed. Now the leg, miss. One swing and we’re almost done.”

She held his eyes but shook her head, and he could see now just how scared she was, her features strained and her eyes big and pleading. He said, “Ever had a tooth pulled, miss?”

She chocked a reluctant, breathy laugh.

“It doesn’t do to put it off, does it, miss,” he said with smiling common sense. “Best to close one’s eyes and let it be done, miss. Same here. You can do it easily enough. There’s no difficulty in it, miss.”

Holding on to him as for dear life, staring into his face with quiet determination, her leg moved slowly from its position and swung over to the other side.

“That’s it!” said Michael, losing some of his professional composure. “Very good, miss!” Then he recollected himself, looking rueful and Kitty had to laugh once more. It was a shaky, fearful laugh, but it was a laugh all the same. He said, “Now you must slide off the branch and straight into Mr Darcy’s arms. I will hold your hands miss until you are there, so you will not fall. No need to fret, you won’t be in any danger at all. Easiest thing in the world, miss, the difficult part you have done already!”

Mr Darcy stood waiting, reaching up for her. His hands could not quite reach her ankles, but when Kitty started sliding off, he did take hold of them. Michael lowered her very slowly and as soon as Mr Darcy grabbed hold of her legs, the footman let go and Mr Darcy was able to put Kitty down onto the ground.

Kitty was, in general, a garrulous sort of girl, and the shock and fear that had silenced her before, caused her to burst out in a torrent of confidences now, straight into Mr Darcy’s astonished face. She told him, in a chocking, almost hysterical, trembling voice, that she had been with Mr Fitzwilliam, was having a very pleasant walk, when that man had been grabbed by an unknown female who demanded to be taken away by him.

“A-and then he wanted me to help them, for they were going to elope! Oh but I could not, not again, I could not assist in such a scheme, but he was coaxing me to help them, telling me I must, and all I could think of was Lydia and-and I could not do it, Mr Darcy, I could not! And so I ran away. I know I should have told you at once but it was so horrid and I did not want to be mixed up in that sort of business again, sir. Oh I am very sorry, and I know I should not have come here all by myself, but how was I to know it was so dangerous? I did not mean to- oh but it all happened so quickly and I-”

Mr Darcy soothed her, by telling her that she was not to blame, and that she did right by leaving so abhorrent a scene. A part of him felt gratified at how disgusted she was with elopements after the affair with Lydia, but there was no time to consider such matters. The situation at hand was too pressing.

Michael had swung himself off the branch meanwhile and was about to return into his livery when he recalled a very gallant thing to do and turned to his Master and asked permission to offer his coat to miss. Kitty recollected her state of dishabille and blushed, but Darcy thanked Michael, took his coat and put it over Kitty’s shoulders. His own coat would have been little to the purpose, but the liveries one was large and long and covered Kitty quite thoroughly. She mumbled a thanks and the three of them left the valley, Mr Darcy ahead with Kitty, and Michael behind with his gloves in one hand and the gun in the other.

At the courtyard Mr Darcy asked Michael to escort Kitty to the house and to entrust her into the hands of Mrs Reynolds explaining that there had been an accident. Michael accepted his orders and followed Kitty up the steps to the mansion. He enquired after Mrs Reynolds from her husband and soon enough Kitty was being borne off up the stairs to be seen to by that worthy woman.

Michael himself had to first go to the gunroom, to restore the weapon there, and then to his own room to change. His heart was beating wildly, for he rarely got to do such exciting things as this and he hoped dearly that Mr Darcy had taken notice. His heart was still beating rather strongly against his chest, when he had changed and returned to his duties below stairs.

Not half an hour later he was ordered, by Mr Reynolds, to serve tea in Mrs Darcy’s private sitting room upstairs, where she would be sharing it with her mother and two sisters. He and John saw to the task together, carrying the tea things and standing in attendance as the ladies served themselves and listened to Mrs Bennet’s comments on the size of the rooms, the prospect from the windows, the tea set itself, the quality of the tea and other such things.

Miss Katherine, Michael noticed, was sitting very quietly, evidently still rather shaken with the day’s events. She had changed into a becoming, modest gown of light pink, and he could not help but notice (for professional or no, he was a young man with a set of working eyes) that it suited her very well; that her eyes, big pools of grey, had a slight mischievous glint to them when not stricken with fear and panic; and that altogether she was a very pretty sort of girl.

Her eyes flew up to his face just then, they looked at one another for a second. She blushed and looked down at her hands, folded primly on her lap, and he turned his gaze to stare ahead of him, at the picture that hung over the mantelpiece behind the ladies. His heart beat wildly against his chest, but this time, he feared, from a very different sort of excitement.


	5. The Elopement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There has to be one. There just has.

Mr Darcy had not the freedom of taking tea with his family, for no sooner had he seen Kitty enter Pemberley, did he turn to the stables to see what had happened to Vincent, and promising himself the pleasure of wringing his cousin’s neck at the nearest opportunity.

In the stables he met the groom, who informed him that when he had been busy unharnessing the cob from the cart, which Miss Healey had requested but, after having failed to find that lady, had to be returned to the stables, Mr Fitzwilliam had come, hand in hand with some female, ordering him to put the harness back onto the cob and telling him that he would be taking it out for a ride.

“I told ‘im sir, that we ‘ad a good phaeton ‘ere, that it would be a matter of ‘alf an hour, no more, to ‘ave it good and ready for ‘im, much more proper for a country ride with a lady, but ‘e was very impatient, sir, ‘alf an hour, he tells me, is just what ‘e don’t ‘ave, and ‘e’ll take the cart thank you very much! So I ‘elped them up, thinking this was all a ‘avey-cavey sort of business, sir, but what was I to do?”

Mr Darcy told him what he was to do at the present moment, and that was to saddle his Master’s mare as quickly as he was able. Within minutes he was galloping at great speed on a horse that was a trifle too fresh for this sort of journey, and which thus had to be controlled with some effort, down the poplar lined lane of the park and out through the gates towards Lambton. The groom did not see which direction the eloping couple had taken, but since they could not possibly desire to travel very far in a mere cart pulled by a cob, he had to suppose that they would head for Lambton, from where they would either rent a post-chaise, or, depending on how purse-pinched Vincent really was, take the stage coach out.

His decided opinion was that the lady who had so heedlessly come to abduct his cousin was none other than that actress of his, and that Vincent was not so much eloping, as running away from Darcy. It was just the sort of foolish thing he would do, and in the process throw himself into ever deeper debt and deeper still into this unscrupulous woman’s snares.

Mr Darcy did not think very charitable thoughts about either of them, as he proceeded to cut across the fields as fast as his horse would carry him. He tried to recall the times at which the stage left Lambton, but as he had never travelled by it, the task was not likely to succeed. In his youth, stage coaches figured as nothing more than obstacles on a course of a racing gentleman, and he had many a times overtaken a tediously bustling, overloaded coach, closely chased by either Wickham or his cousin, the colonel.

He no longer raced, and indeed, the last time he had hurried so to get to Lambton was nearly a year ago, when he learned that Miss Elizabeth Bennet was putting up at the inn there, and he was desirous of seeing as much of her as he could possibly. Then, as now, his mare’s legs could not carry him fast enough. Then, however, the feeling carrying him was very different from the one driving him now. Then his chest was thundering in echo with his horse’s hoof-beats, he was all eager anticipation, all hope. Now, his chest was filled with resignation and anger, and he wondered whether he would have to pummel his cousin to the ground and then drag him back to Pemberley by force.

A water-filled ditch separated him from the main road to the village, and he jumped it, before reigning the mare in, and proceeding at a steadier pace to match the traffic of the road. He directed himself to the posting inn, whence he supposed the stage may be caught. He jumped off his horse and handed its reins to a waiting ostler. Inside, the coffee room was mostly empty, and in the tap room he found a waiter, who told him that the stage did not stop here, but the post did, and, after a swift look at Mr Darcy, recognizing the most prominent man of the region, did not he prefer the post? Mr Darcy, seeing that Vincent was not here, asked about his cousin, giving a fair description and adding that he was with a handsome female (which, considering that Vincent associated with her, was practically guaranteed to be true), but found that he had not been seen and that the post had been here an hour a go, but that nobody alighted it.

“Where does the stage go from?” he asked.

“The Tree Hill Inn, sir,” said the waiter. “It comes from the Ram in West Smithfield on Mondays and Thursdays, sir, so there won’t be any t’day.”

Darcy compensated the waiter and then strode out to walk the few paces that separated the inn from the Tree Hill. This was an earthier establishment. No sooner did his boots sound on its floorboards, did two startled faces look up from their corner of the coffee room, and at once Darcy recognized his cousin.

He was sitting opposite a respectably dressed female, at a table on which tankards of ale and plates of cake stood, largely untouched. Vincent stood at the sight of his cousin, but his expression was mutinous. The girl came to stand by his side, looking at Mr Darcy with enormous eyes and a trembling lip.

Darcy ignored her, and said to his cousin, “Will you have the goodness to inform me what hare-brained scheme you have decided upon now?”

“It is none of your concern!” hissed Vincent, much angered.

“Is it not? Where are you going?”

Vincent frowned, “I haven’t decided yet. Nor would I tell you, if I had, for you would thrust a spoke in any plan of mine, and I won’t be held back by such a one as you!”

This speech was highly surprising, for his cousin was often indignant, but never ill-humoured about it. It would have been much more like him to laugh and curse his cousin.

Now he looked almost fierce. The girl clutched to his arm and sighed, “Oh no! I should not have…! Oh it is so very dreadful!”

She was blushing and unable to meet Mr Darcy’s eyes, which was also surprising, since his own experience with actresses had taught him that such coyness may be acted out as a means of seduction, but not in such circumstances as this. The girl did not look as though she were acting, moreover. She looked genuinely embarrassed. Vincent said to her, “Never fear, my sweet. I am very glad you have come to me. My cousin has no right to stop us. He is not the master of me, let me tell you. He has no power over us.”

Mr Darcy frowned, “Vincent, what in heaven’s name is going forward here?”

Vincent was clearly on the verge of a sharp retort, but a pleading sigh from his lady checked him and he said, looking around the inn, “This is not a matter that should be discussed in the open. It isn’t proper.”

Mr Darcy was now thoroughly astonished. His cousin, who had in his long and varied career in town indulged in every kind of vice without shame or discretion, would be the last person in the world to consider the proprieties. The inn was quite empty, except for a family sitting at the other end of a room reached through a stone archway, which was much too busy with their own affairs in any event, since the governess who was with them had no authority over the children, and was at pains to keep them quiet and composed.

“Come back to Pemberley,” said Darcy in a calmer voice. “All can be discussed there.”

“Never!” Vincent bristled. “I am going nowhere until she and I are married!”

Darcy turned to look at the girl once more, realising that this must be not the rapacious actress, but Miss Dorinda Ibbetson. He whispered to Vincent, severely, “Good God, Vince, this is worse than I thought! You cannot mean to elope with her!”

“I can and I will,” said his cousin. “Much you can do to stop me!”

“You can but you ought not,” said Darcy. “You will ruin the both of you! You will be miserable! Good God, man, sober up!”

Vincent lifted his chin. “I am perfectly sober, thank you,” he said. “It turns out, you see, that your help, had you been so good as to render it, which you were not, would have been useless, for it would have come too late. Mr Ibbetson has discovered my- my past, so to say, and is categorically opposed to the match. Miss Ibbetson therefore ran away from home and found me. She journeyed all the way from London by herself. I must marry her now, and I have every intention of doing it.”

“He will likely as not disinherit her,” said Mr Darcy, dampening this noble speech. “You will both of you be left with nothing.”

“I will find an occupation,” said Vincent bravely. “I am able-bodied and, despite what you and my father think, not entirely stupid!”

“You are not doing much to prove that point at the moment,” retorted Darcy. “This is an idiotic scheme, Vincent, and it is unworthy of you. Come back to Pemberley and let us discuss it rationally. Miss Ibbetson can stay under the chaperonage of my wife, and you and I can speak with Mr Ibbetson and see what can be done with him. He will want her married after this imprudent start, and if you present yourself as her saviour from ruin, perhaps he can be convinced to accept you.”

Vincent had already gone too far in his image of a rogue who rescued damsels in distress in a highly dramatic fashion, but his lady found much to appeal in Mr Darcy’s speech, and pressed his arm, turning her pretty face up at him and said, “Oh yes, Mr Fitzwilliam, do, pray, let us go to Pemberley! To stay here until Thursday would be intolerable! Oh it all went pear-shaped, as I knew it would, for it was very silly of me, of course, only- only I could not bear it when papa said I was never to see you again! The moment he said it I knew I could do nothing but see you at once!”

“Very naturally,” said Darcy dryly. “Vincent, it is nonsensical for you to stay in Lambton, when you could be staying, respectably, in Pemberley. If we cannot come to an agreement, you may continue your journey on Thursday. Until then, you best come with me.”

Vincent was inclined to be mulish, but the look on Miss Ibbetson’s face, when she said thank you and then looked pleadingly up at her beau, swayed him, and he relented at last. Mr Darcy was, for a moment, forced to consider the preposterous notion that his rakish cousin had at last lost his heart, but was at once reminded that losing his heart had never been Vincent’s problem. He did it all too easily, and often with the most inappropriate women, some of them twice his age. All consideration should therefore be given to the rescue of the young woman in question now, to save her from ruin, and not to Vincent’s volatile feelings.

Darcy sent a boy off to Pemberley with a note, so that a carriage be sent to come and pick them up, together with a maid. He paid his cousin’s fare at the inn, hired a man to drive his cart and cob back to Pemberley farms, and explained, delicately, to the inn-keeper, that there had been a misunderstanding, that the girl had lost herself in the neighbourhood and his cousin had been so good as to find her, and keep her safe, so that she could be brought to Pemberley, and her journey could be brought to a happy conclusion, whither she was bound on an invitation from Mrs Darcy herself. The innkeeper would have found such a story quite ridiculous, had it come from anyone else. Mr Darcy was known, however, to be proud, starchy and very respectable, and his countenance did not invite people to doubt his word.

Vincent, though he had relented to Darcy’s scheme, could not be pleased. Dorinda, in her escape, had thrown herself into his arms, casting him thereby into the role of hero and saviour, and he was much inclined to accept this role, and discharge his duty by women everywhere, by taking her to the border and marrying her at once. Mr Darcy had come and thrown a bucket of cold water over the whole affair, and had begun to direct the whole in his own way. Vincent was not so lost to everything as to not see the sense in it, but it robbed the whole business of a certain _élan_. Unlike Dorinda, he quite looked forward to spending a few illegitimate nights in inns on the way to Gretna. To be sure, he meant to be very noble and sacrificial, preserving the girl’s purity for as long as he could, but he also meant to reap the rewards for such efforts, and meant to make her feel the great constraint he was under, and the great suffering he would be undergoing all the while. But all this was now at an end. Now that Mr Darcy was in charge of the affair, there could be no doubt that the girl would be under lock and key in a quite different part of the house to himself, and that his damned servants would make sure that he got nowhere near her for the duration of his stay. And the next few days, rather than be spent in delicious adventure, would instead be spent in discussing his rakish behaviour, and his propensity to throw himself at trouble with vigour quite unsuited to his birth and education.

Dorinda, though young and naïve, had the talent, however, of making any man feel twice as brave and strong as he really was, by clinging to his arm, looking up at him, half-worshipfully, half-pleadingly, and by addressing him in a low whisper, for she dared not address Mr Darcy directly at all. The things she said were also very gratifying: she spoke of how all will be sorted to everybody’s satisfaction now. She told him that she thought the notion of Vincent working for his money positively beastly, and that she would never wish such a fate upon her beloved. She thought she had a perfectly good dowry, and it would be monstrous if they should not make use of it, the both of them, by enjoying the gaieties of London and living comfortably for the rest of their days. Nothing could be better calculated to work on Vincent, and when Darcy left to arrange transport back to Pemberley, he spoke with new energy of the balls and theatres that must lie in their future together.

She said, “It will be so much more comfortable than if we were to hide in a cottage in the country, as we thought we might be obliged to!”

He responded lovingly, “I would not mind hiding in a cottage in the country with you, my sweet.”

She blushed very becomingly, and when Mr Darcy returned with the news that he saw the carriage just now, the pair of them stood with great energy and readiness to comply with Darcy’s wishes. Despite this new, complacent attitude, nothing could prevail upon Darcy to sit in the carriage with them. He rode his horse in front of the carriage, for he found his cousin’s love-making sickening, and as he had a maid from Pemberley sit with them, he thought he had discharged his duty by everybody. There was little need to instruct the maid, after they arrived in Pemberley, never to breathe a word of this to anybody. She looked as though she wished to forget all she heard in the carriage as soon as she could.

Miss Ibbetson was handed over to Mrs Reynolds, who accepted the charge without a blink. She only said, “Mrs Darcy is entertaining her mother and sisters in her drawing room, sir, and requested I hold dinner when it is convenient to you.”

“In an hour,” said Mr Darcy. “Pray inform Mrs Darcy of her new guest and tell her that I will come to her once I have finished with Mr Fitzwilliam.”

Mrs Reynolds bowed her head in acknowledgement and walked away with her charge. Just as Mr Darcy was about to turn into the parlour, which led, further on, into his study, the double doors of his library opened, and the mischievous face of Mr Bennet peeped through.

“Ah, Mr Darcy!” he said, spotting his son-in-law. “I must congratulate you on your collection here, it is quite to my liking. I rather like Pemberley, I confess. Such a calm, restful place. Did I hear someone speak of dinner?”


	6. And in conclusion...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bennets leave. Mr Darcy can rest at last.

The Bennet visit ended a fortnight later, though there were moments when Mr Darcy wondered if it ever would. Vincent and Miss Ibbetson left the House engaged, after Mr Ibbetson himself arrived and negotiated his terms with Mr Darcy. It fell to Darcy to vouch for his cousin’s character, and the obvious affection in which that man held Miss Ibbetson. He did both, though he warned his cousin that he was not in the habit of breaking his word. Of the prospected felicity of the match he held a reasonable hope. The girl was scatter-brained and very impetuous, which must be thought faults in character, but she looked upon Vincent as though he were the most wonderful thing in existence, and adored him more even than he adored himself. This, perhaps, would carry the relationship.

That Vincent was more motivated by her fortune and perhaps a healthy deal of lust, was to be expected, but there was a measure of warmth in his regard for her, that could perhaps develop into more. All the same, the engagement was announced and the family drank champagne together to celebrate it. There was the matter of how this news would be broken to the Earl, but Mr Darcy did not propose to involve himself in this. He was very glad when Miss Ibbetson, her father and her swain were packed away in a post-chaise, and left Pemberley.

The Bennets had no trouble at all keeping the place lively even without Vincent’s help. Mrs Bennet alone was the source of continuous crises among the servants, crowning her work with clashing with the accoucheur so violently, that only Mr Darcy’s handsome wages allowed the man to swallow the insults that had been levelled at his head.

Mr Bennet did not emerge from the library for anything but the meals, and even then he appeared supremely indifferent to the goings on among his wife and daughters.

Mr Darcy was aware of a certain weariness, when at last the day of their departure came. He could not but feel some ease, when Mr Bennet handed his wife into the carriage, and her incessant speech was drowned by the confines of the box. Mr Bennet smiled, took his leave of the Darcys with perfect contentment, having satisfied his curiosity about the famous Pemberley library, and already determined to delightfully surprise Darcy again in the near future. He was just in the middle of saying to Elizabeth that he hoped she would take care of herself for he saw little of her during his stay, when Kitty was about to be handed in.

As her father was distracted, Michael, who was standing by to close the door of the carriage, offered his hand. Kitty did not look at him, though the way her chest heaved the moment their gloved hands touched, and the slight blush that crept up her neck may have betrayed her more than she would have wished. It was possible Michael was imagining it—hopeful young men in the midst of an impossible infatuation have been known to do such things, but there was no time to consider the matter. He handed in Mary as well and then Mr Bennet scrambled in after her. Michael closed the door of the carriage. Mr and Mrs Darcy returned to the mansion while he received instructions from John as to the timing of the meals that day on his way back to the servants’ hall.

It occurred to him then that perhaps he would not like to be a valet and then a butler after all. Pemberley was certainly a grand sort of place and the Darcys an excellent sort of family, but he would never be able to marry a woman like Kitty Bennet in that way. His mind wandered to his cousin, Daniel Till, who worked as an actor in London. He was befriended with a Mr Robert Egerton who had many times regaled him with the wonderful opportunities oversees and the money one could make out in India. Perhaps if he could find work going out there, and if he could maybe one day have a ship and trade in tea or opium or such- he knew little about such things but there was no telling what he could achieve if he only looked into the matter. He was quite hungry for more in life. After all, he had brains and working limbs and-

“Are you listening?” John, the first footman, burst in upon his thoughts.

“Yes,” said Michael with a smile, “of course.”

 

***

 

Elizabeth was in bed early that evening, finding that she fatigued very easily these days and fearing that it would only get worse as time wore on. She was about to blow out her candle, finding little to divert her in the book she was reading and feeling little inclined to read the letter she had received that morning from Charlotte, when a light knock came on her door.

“Yes?” she said.

The door open and her husband, dressed in nothing but his shirtsleeves and banyan, came in.

“Are you very tired, my dear?” he said, coming across the room and sitting down at the side of her bed.

“A little,” she admitted, “though I fear I have no right to be. How very tired you must be. Come, lie here, next to me. I shan’t bore you with any speech or any demand at all. You can lie there and breathe with contentment as you consider the well-known adage that there is no pleasure without pain.”

Mr Darcy smiled but did as he was told. He moved to the other side of the bed and stretched out next to his wife. He waited until she nestled herself in his arm and rested her head comfortably on his chest. His hand went to her hair, and he stroked her head with one hand and held hers with the other where his heart was.

“They will do it again, won’t they,” he murmured.

“Certainly, my love,” she said soothingly, “but right now you are at the furthest possible point from another visit.”

His chest shook with light laughter, “A very mature approach, my dear. Do you know, one would think that in so large a house there would be a corner from which one would not be able to hear your mother.”

“Is there not?” Elizabeth asked with genuine curiosity.

“There is not,” he confirmed.

“Did you, in fact, try?” said Elizabeth, her voice shaking with laughter.

“Will you think very ill of me if I say that I may have done?”

“I will think you unpardonable!” she laughed. “What will you do when my papa dies and she will wish to stay with us?”

He was quiet for a few seconds and lifted herself so that she could look down at him, wondering if perhaps the thought had never occurred to him, and if it were possible that he would now regret marrying her.

He was smiling, however, and said, “I have always thought it very fortunate that the dower house is on the other side of the park.”

She laughed, “You have given it thought?”

“I have,” he said, “though I am sure that she would prefer to stay with Bingley and your sister.”

“Oh no,” said Elizabeth, “you are quite in her favour now, you know. She thought you very masterful when you rescued Kitty.”

 He said nothing to this and she, still looking down at him, said, “I have not thanked you for your remarkable forbearance this past fortnight, have I?”

“You do not have to.”

“I wish it,” she said. “You were extraordinary! I heard it all from Kitty herself, you know, and Mary told me how you were so very kind to her during her stay, and papa could not say enough good things about your library. And you had that idiot Ibbetson girl on your hands and her priggish papa, and your shameless rake of a cousin. Why, there was no end to your sufferings, while your wife remained closeted in her rooms, being cossetted and cared for with every possible indulgence. It is a wonder that you could bear it!” With that she proceeded to shower his face with kisses, first humorously and then quite in earnest until he caught her lips in a long, deep kiss, pulling her closer to him and turning her over onto her back.

Waking up had been, for the past four months, a blissful affair. Only recently have mornings been marred by her feeling unwell, but before that, there had been no time of day or night that he liked better. There was nothing grander, more precious, or anything that made him feel wealthier or more fortunate, than the sight of his wife’s sleep-dazed face next to him, just after they woke up.

Fortunately, when they awoke the next morning, she was not ill. He turned over onto his side and, half asleep himself, watched her, until her eyes opened, blinked, and she smiled. Her eyes, first brimming with tender laughter, startled suddenly. She looked surprised and then, under the covers, reached for his hand and placed it flat on her stomach.

“Can you feel it?” she said.

He waited but felt nothing and was not entirely sure what he was meant to feel. Elizabeth held her breath waiting for it to happen again and was just losing hope when the baby moved again: a light kick aimed, it seemed, straight at Mr Darcy’s hand.

“Good God,” he said. “The baby?”

She looked up at him and watched with delight the expression of enchanted astonishment on his face. He laughed. “Restless,” he declared. “It will be entirely like you. There will never be peace at Pemberley again.”

She laughed, “I daresay, the next one will be like you.”

“If there is a God…” he murmured, kissing her tenderly.


End file.
